Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes THE MUSGRAVE RITUAL

AN ANOMALY which often struck me in the character of my friendSherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was theneatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected acertain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habitsone of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction.Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The roughand-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of naturalBohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits amedical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man whokeeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persianslipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knifeinto the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to givemyself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should bedistinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queerhumours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundredBoxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patrioticV. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere northe appearance of our room was improved by it.Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relicswhich had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning upin the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were mygreat crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially thosewhich were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once inevery year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrangethem; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs,the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkablefeats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions oflethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books,hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after monthhis papers accumulated until every corner of the room was stacked withbundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and whichcould not be put away save by their owner. One winter's night, as we sattogether by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finishedpasting extracts into his commonplace book, he might employ the nexttwo hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not denythe justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to hisbedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behindhim. This he placed in the middle of the floor, and, squatting down upon astool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already athird full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages."There are cases enough here, Watson," said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. "I think that if you knew all that I had in this box youwould ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.""These are the records of your early work, then?" I asked. "I have oftenwished that I had notes of those cases.""Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographerhad come to glorify me." He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender,caressing sort of way. [387] "They are not all successes, Watson," said he."But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here's the recordof the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant,and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of thealuminum crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot,and his abominable wife. And here-ah, now, this really is something alittle recherché."He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest and brought up asmall wooden box with a sliding lid such as children's toys are kept in.From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, an old-fashionedbrass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and threerusty old discs of metal."Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?" he asked, smiling at myexpression."It is a curious collection.""Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as beingmore curious still.""These relics have a history, then?""So much so that they are history.""What do you mean by that?"Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked themover with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes."These," said he, "are all that I have left to remind me of the adventureof the Musgrave Ritual."I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had neverbeen able to gather the details. "I should be so glad," said I, "if you wouldgive me an account of it.""And leave the litter as it is?" he cried mischievously. "Your tidinesswon't bear much strain, after all, Watson. But I should be glad that youshould add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which makeit quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any othercountry. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly beincomplete which contained no account of this very singular business."You may remember how the affair of the Gloria Scott, and myconversation with the unhappy man whose fate I told you of, first turnedmy attention in the direction of the profession which has become mylife's work. You see me now when my name has become known far andwide, and when I am generally recognized both by the public and by theofficial force as being a final court of appeal in doubtful cases. Evenwhen you knew me first, at the time of the affair which you havecommemorated in 'A Study in Scarlet,' I had already established aconsiderable, though not a very lucrative, connection. You can hardlyrealize, then, how difficult I found it at first, and how long I had to waitbefore I succeeded in making any headway."When I first came up to London I had rooms in Montague Street, justround the corner from the British Museum, and there I waited, filling inmy too abundant leisure time by studying all those branches of sciencewhich might make me more efficient. Now and again cases came in myway, principally through the introduction of old fellow-students, forduring my last years at the university there was a good deal of talk thereabout myself and my methods. The third of these cases was [388] that ofthe Musgrave Ritual, and it is to the interest which was aroused by thatsingular chain of events, and the large issues which proved to be at stake,that I trace my first stride towards the position which I now hold."Reginald Musgrave had been in the same college as myself, and I hadsome slight acquaintance with him. He was not generally popular amongthe undergraduates, though it always seemed to me that what was setdown as pride was really an attempt to cover extreme natural diffidence.In appearance he was a man of an exceedingly aristocratic type, thin, highnosed, and large-eyed, with languid and yet courtly manners. He wasindeed a scion of one of the very oldest families in the kingdom, thoughhis branch was a cadet one which had separated from the northernMusgraves some time in the sixteenth century and had established itself inwestern Sussex, where the Manor House of Hurlstone is perhaps theoldest inhabited building in the county. Something of his birth-placeseemed to cling to the man, and I never looked at his pale, keen face orthe poise of his head without associating him with gray archways andmullioned windows and all the venerable wreckage of a feudal keep.Once or twice we drifted into talk, and I can remember that more than once he expressed a keen interest in my methods of observation andinference."For four years I had seen nothing of him until one morning he walkedinto my room in Montague Street. He had changed little, was dressed likea young man of fashion-he was always a bit of a dandy-and preserved thesame quiet, suave manner which had formerly distinguished him." 'How has all gone with you, Musgrave?' I asked after we hadcordially shaken hands." 'You probably heard of my poor father's death,' said he; 'he wascarried off about two years ago. Since then I have of course had theHurlstone estate to manage, and as I am member for my district as well,my life has been a busy one. But I understand, Holmes, that you areturning to practical ends those powers with which you used to amaze us?'" 'Yes,' said I, 'I have taken to living by my wits.'" 'I am delighted to hear it, for your advice at present would beexceedingly valuable to me. We have had some very strange doings atHurlstone, and the police have been able to throw no light upon thematter. It is really the most extraordinary and inexplicable business.'"You can imagine with what eagerness I listened to him, Watson, forthe very chance for which I had been panting during all those months ofinaction seemed to have come within my reach. In my inmost heart Ibelieved that I could succeed where others failed, and now I had theopportunity to test myself." 'Pray let me have the details,' I cried."Reginald Musgrave sat down opposite to me and lit the cigarettewhich I had pushed towards him." 'You must know,' said he, 'that though I am a bachelor, I have to keep up a considerable staff of servants at Hurlstone, for it is a ramblingold place and takes a good deal of looking after. I preserve, too, and in thepheasant months I usually have a house-party, so that it would not do tobe short-handed. Altogether there are eight maids, the cook, the butler,two footmen, and a boy. The garden and the stables of course have aseparate staff." 'Of these servants the one who had been longest in our service wasBrunton, the butler. He was a young schoolmaster out of place when hewas first taken up [389] by my father, but he was a man of great energyand character, and he soon became quite invaluable in the household. Hewas a well-grown, handsome man, with a splendid forehead, and thoughhe has been with us for twenty years he cannot be more than forty now.With his personal advantages and his extraordinary gifts-for he can speakseveral languages and play nearly every musical instrument-it iswonderful that he should have been satisfied so long in such a position,but I suppose that he was comfortable and lacked energy to make anychange. The butler of Hurlstone is always a thing that is remembered byall who visit us." 'But this paragon has one fault. He is a bit of a Don Juan, and you canimagine that for a man like him it is not a very difficult part to play in aquiet country district. When he was married it was all right, but since hehas been a widower we have had no end of trouble with him. A fewmonths ago we were in hopes that he was about to settle down again, forhe became engaged to Rachel Howells, our second housemaid; but he hasthrown her over since then and taken up with Janet Tregellis, the daughterof the head game-keeper. Rachel-who is a very good girl, but of anexcitable Welsh temperament-had a sharp touch of brain-fever and goesabout the house now-or did until yesterday-like a black-eyed shadow ofher former self. That was our first drama at Hurlstone; but a second onecame to drive it from our minds, and it was prefaced by the disgrace anddismissal of butler Brunton." 'This was how it came about. I have said that the man was intelligent,and this very intelligence has caused his ruin, for it seems to have led toan insatiable curiosity about things which did not in the least concern him.I had no idea of the lengths to which this would carry him until the merestaccident opened my eyes to it." 'I have said that the house is a rambling one. One day last week-onThursday night, to be more exact-I found that I could not sleep, havingfoolishly taken a cup of strong cafe noir after my dinner. After strugglingagainst it until two in the morning, I felt that it was quite hopeless, so Irose and lit the candle with the intention of continuing a novel which Iwas reading. The book, however, had been left in the billiard-room, so Ipulled on my dressing-gown and started off to get it." 'In order to reach the billiard-room I had to descend a flight of stairsand then to cross the head of a passage which led to the library and thegun-room. You can imagine my surprise when, as I looked down thiscorridor, I saw a glimmer of light coming from the open door of thelibrary. I had myself extinguished the lamp and closed the door beforecoming to bed. Naturally my first thought was of burglars. The corridors at Hurlstone have their walls largely decorated with trophies of oldweapons. From one of these I picked a battle-axe, and then, leaving mycandle behind me, I crept on tiptoe down the passage and peeped in at theopen door." 'Brunton, the butler, was in the library. He was sitting, fully dressed,in an easy-chair, with a slip of paper which looked like a map upon hisknee, and his forehead sunk forward upon his hand in deep thought. Istood dumb with astonishment, watching him from the darkness. A smalltaper on the edge of the table shed a feeble light which sufficed to showme that he was fully dressed. Suddenly, as I looked, he rose from hischair, and, walking over to a bureau at the side, he unlocked it and drewout one of the drawers. From this he took a paper, and, returning to hisseat, he flattened it out beside the taper on the edge of the [390] table andbegan to study it with minute attention. My indignation at this calmexamination of our family documents overcame me so far that I took astep forward, and Brunton, looking up, saw me standing in the doorway.He sprang to his feet, his face turned livid with fear, and he thrust into hisbreast the chart-like paper which he had been originally studying." ' "So!" said I. "This is how you repay the trust which we havereposed in you. You will leave my service to-morrow."" 'He bowed with the look of a man who is utterly crushed and slunkpast me without a word. The taper was still on the table, and by its light Iglanced to see what the paper was which Brunton had taken from thebureau. To my surprise it was nothing of any importance at all, but simplya copy of the questions and answers in the singular old observance calledthe Musgrave Ritual. It is a sort of ceremony peculiar to our family,which each Musgrave for centuries past has gone through on his comingof age-a thing of private interest, and perhaps of some little importance tothe archaeologist, like our own blazonings and charges, but of no practicaluse whatever.'" 'We had better come back to the paper afterwards,' said I." 'If you think it really necessary,' he answered with some hesitation.'To continue my statement, however: I relocked the bureau, using the keywhich Brunton had left, and I had turned to go when I was surprised tofind that the butler had returned, and was standing before me." ' "Mr. Musgrave, sir," he cried in a voice which was hoarse withemotion, "I can't bear disgrace, sir. I've always been proud above mystation in life, and disgrace would kill me. My blood will be on your head,sir-it will, indeed-if you drive me to despair. If you cannot keep me afterwhat has passed, then for God's sake let me give you notice and leave in amonth, as if of my own free will. I could stand that, Mr. Musgrave, butnot to be cast out before all the folk that I know so well." " ' "You don't deserve much consideration, Brunton," I answered."Your conduct has been most infamous. However, as you have been along time in the family, I have no wish to bring public disgrace upon you.A month, however, is too long. Take yourself away in a week, and givewhat reason you like for going."" ' "Only a week, sir?" he cried in a despairing voice. "A fortnight-sayat least a fortnight!"" ' "A week," I repeated, "and you may consider yourself to have beenvery leniently dealt with."" 'He crept away, his face sunk upon his breast, like a broken man,while I put out the light and returned to my room." 'For two days after this Brunton was most assiduous in his attentionto his duties. I made no allusion to what had passed and waited with somecuriosity to see how he would cover his disgrace. On the third morning,however, he did not appear, as was his custom, after breakfast to receivemy instructions for the day. As I left the dining-room I happened to meetRachel Howells, the maid. I have told you that she had only recentlyrecovered from an illness and was looking so wretchedly pale and wanthat I remonstrated with her for being at work." ' "You should be in bed," I said. "Come back to your duties when youare stronger."" 'She looked at me with so strange an expression that I began tosuspect that her brain was affected.[391] " ' "I am strong enough, Mr. Musgrave," said she." ' "We will see what the doctor says," I answered. "You must stopwork now, and when you go downstairs just say that I wish to seeBrunton."" ' "The butler is gone," said she." ' "Gone! Gone where?"" ' "He is gone. No one has seen him. He is not in his room. Oh, yes, heis gone, he is gone!" She fell back against the wall with shriek after shriekof laughter, while I, horrified at this sudden hysterical attack, rushed tothe bell to summon help. The girl was taken to her room, still screamingand sobbing, while I made inquiries about Brunton. There was no doubtabout it that he had disappeared. His bed had not been slept in, he hadbeen seen by no one since he had retired to his room the night before, andyet it was difficult to see how he could have left the house, as bothwindows and doors were found to be fastened in the morning. His clothes,his watch, and even his money were in his room, but the black suit whichhe usually wore was missing. His slippers, too, were gone, but his bootswere left behind. Where then could butler Brunton have gone in the night,and what could have become of him now?" 'Of course we searched the house from cellar to garret, but there wasno trace of him. It is, as I have said, a labyrinth of an old house, especiallythe original wing, which is now practically uninhabited; but we ransackedevery room and cellar without discovering the least sign of the missingman. It was incredible to me that he could have gone away leaving all hisproperty behind him, and yet where could he be? I called in the localpolice, but without success. Rain had fallen on the night before, and we examined the lawn and the paths all round the house, but in vain. Matterswere in this state, when a new development quite drew our attention awayfrom the original mystery." 'For two days Rachel Howells had been so ill, sometimes delirious,sometimes hysterical, that a nurse had been employed to sit up with her atnight. On the third night after Brunton's disappearance, the nurse, findingher patient sleeping nicely, had dropped into a nap in the armchair, whenshe woke in the early morning to find the bed empty, the window open,and no signs of the invalid. I was instantly aroused, and, with the twofootmen, started off at once in search of the missing girl. It was notdifficult to tell the direction which she had taken, for, starting from underher window, we could follow her footmarks easily across the lawn to theedge of the mere, where they vanished close to the gravel path whichleads out of the grounds. The lake there is eight feet deep, and you canimagine our feelings when we saw that the trail of the poor demented girlcame to an end at the edge of it." 'Of course, we had the drags at once and set to work to recover theremains, but no trace of the body could we find. On the other hand, webrought to the surface an object of a most unexpected kind. It was a linenbag which contained within it a mass of old rusted and discoloured metaland several dull-coloured pieces of pebble or glass. This strange find wasall that we could get from the mere, and, although we made everypossible search and inquiry yesterday, we know nothing of the fate eitherof Rachel Howells or of Richard Brunton. The county police are at theirwit's end, and I have come up to you as a last resource.'"You can imagine, Watson, with what eagerness I listened to thisextraordinary sequence of events, and endeavoured to piece themtogether, and to devise some common thread upon which they might allhang. The butler was gone. The maid [392] was gone. The maid had lovedthe butler, but had afterwards had cause to hate him. She was of Welshblood, fiery and passionate. She had been terribly excited immediatelyafter his disappearance. She had flung into the lake a bag containing somecurious contents. These were all factors which had to be taken intoconsideration, and yet none of them got quite to the heart of the matter.What was the starting-point of this chain of events? There lay the end ofthis tangled line." 'I must see that paper, Musgrave,' said I, 'which this butler of yoursthought it worth his while to consult, even at the risk of the loss of hisplace.'" 'It is rather an absurd business, this ritual of ours,' he answered. 'Butit has at least the saving grace of antiquity to excuse it. I have a copy ofthe questions and answers here if you care to run your eye over them.'"He handed me the very paper which I have here, Watson, and this isthe strange catechism to which each Musgrave had to submit when hecame to man's estate. I will read you the questions and answers as theystand." 'Whose was it?'" 'His who is gone.'" 'Who shall have it?' " 'He who will come.'" 'Where was the sun?'" 'Over the oak.'" 'Where was the shadow?'" 'Under the elm.'" 'How was it stepped?'" 'North by ten and by ten, east by five and by five, south by two andby two, west by one and by one, and so under.'" 'What shall we give for it?'" 'All that is ours.'" 'Why should we give it?'" 'For the sake of the trust.'" 'The original has no date, but is in the spelling of the middle of theseventeenth century,' remarked Musgrave. 'I am afraid, however, that itcan be of little help to you in solving this mystery.'" 'At least,' said I, 'it gives us another mystery, and one which is evenmore interesting than the first. It may be that the solution of the one mayprove to be the solution of the other. You will excuse me, Musgrave, if Isay that your butler appears to me to have been a very clever man, and tohave had a clearer insight than ten generations of his masters.'" 'I hardly follow you,' said Musgrave. 'The paper seems to me to beof no practical importance.'" 'But to me it seems immensely practical, and I fancy that Bruntontook the same view. He had probably seen it before that night on whichyou caught him.'" 'It is very possible. We took no pains to hide it.'" 'He simply wished, I should imagine, to refresh his memory upon thatlast occasion. He had, as I understand, some sort of map or chart which hewas comparing with the manuscript, and which he thrust into his pocketwhen you appeared.'" 'That is true. But what could he have to do with this old familycustom of ours, and what does this rigmarole mean?'" 'I don't think that we should have much difficulty in determining that,' said [393] I; 'with your permission we will take the first train down toSussex and go a little more deeply into the matter upon the spot.'"The same afternoon saw us both at Hurlstone. Possibly you have seenpictures and read descriptions of the famous old building, so I willconfine my account of it to saying that it is built in the shape of an L, thelong arm being the more modern portion, and the shorter the ancientnucleus from which the other has developed. Over the low, heavylintelled door, in the centre of this old part, is chiselled the date, 1607, butexperts are agreed that the beams and stonework are really much olderthan this. The enormously thick walls and tiny windows of this part had inthe last century driven the family into building the new wing, and the oldone was used now as a storehouse and a cellar, when it was used at all. Asplendid park with fine old timber surrounds the house, and the lake, towhich my client had referred, lay close to the avenue, about two hundredyards from the building."I was already firmly convinced, Watson, that there were not three separate mysteries here, but one only, and that if I could read theMusgrave Ritual aright I should hold in my hand the clue which wouldlead me to the truth concerning both the butler Brunton and the maidHowells. To that then I turned all my energies. Why should this servantbe so anxious to master this old formula? Evidently because he sawsomething in it which had escaped all those generations of countrysquires, and from which he expected some personal advantage. What wasit then, and how had it affected his fate?"It was perfectly obvious to me, on reading the Ritual, that themeasurements must refer to some spot to which the rest of the documentalluded, and that if we could find that spot we should be in a fair waytowards finding what the secret was which the old Musgraves had thoughtit necessary to embalm in so curious a fashion. There were two guidesgiven us to start with, an oak and an elm. As to the oak there could be noquestion at all. Right in front of the house, upon the left-hand side of thedrive, there stood a patriarch among oaks, one of the most magnificenttrees that I have ever seen." 'That was there when your Ritual was drawn up,' said I as we drovepast it." 'It was there at the Norman Conquest in all probability,' he answered.'It has a girth of twenty-three feet.'"Here was one of my fixed points secured." 'Have you any old elms?' I asked." 'There used to be a very old one over yonder, but it was struck bylightning ten years ago, and we cut down the stump.'" 'You can see where it used to be?'" 'Oh, yes.' " 'There are no other elms?'" 'No old ones, but plenty of beeches.'" 'I should like to see where it grew.'"We had driven up in a dog-cart, and my client led me away at once,without our entering the house, to the scar on the lawn where the elm hadstood. It was nearly midway between the oak and the house. Myinvestigation seemed to be progressing." 'I suppose it is impossible to find out how high the elm was?' I asked." 'I can give you it at once. It was sixty-four feet.'" 'How do you come to know it?' I asked in surprise.[394] " 'When my old tutor used to give me an exercise in trigonometry,it always took the shape of measuring heights. When I was a lad I workedout every tree and building in the estate.'"This was an unexpected piece of luck. My data were coming morequickly than I could have reasonably hoped." 'Tell me,' I asked, 'did your butler ever ask you such a question?'"Reginald Musgrave looked at me in astonishment. 'Now that you callit to my mind,' he answered, 'Brunton did ask me about the height of thetree some months ago in connection with some little argument with thegroom.'"This was excellent news, Watson, for it showed me that I was on theright road. I looked up at the sun. It was low in the heavens, and Icalculated that in less than an hour it would lie just above the topmostbranches of the old oak. One condition mentioned in the Ritual wouldthen be fulfilled. And the shadow of the elm must mean the farther end ofthe shadow, otherwise the trunk would have been chosen as the guide. Ihad, then, to find where the far end of the shadow would fall when the sunwas just clear of the oak.""That must have been difficult, Holmes, when the elm was no longerthere.""Well, at least I knew that if Brunton could do it, I could also. Besides,there was no real difficulty. I went with Musgrave to his study andwhittled myself this peg, to which I tied this long string with a knot ateach yard. Then I took two lengths of a fishing-rod, which came to justsix feet, and I went back with my client to where the elm had been. Thesun was just grazing the top of the oak. I fastened the rod on end, markedout the direction of the shadow, and measured it. It was nine feet in length."Of course the calculation now was a simple one. If a rod of six feetthrew a shadow of nine, a tree of sixty-four feet would throw one ofninety-six, and the line of the one would of course be the line of the other.I measured out the distance, which brought me almost to the wall of thehouse, and I thrust a peg into the spot. You can imagine my exultation,Watson, when within two inches of my peg I saw a conical depression inthe ground. I knew that it was the mark made by Brunton in hismeasurements, and that I was still upon his trail."From this starting-point I proceeded to step, having first taken thecardinal points by my pocket-compass. Ten steps with each foot took mealong parallel with the wall of the house, and again I marked my spot witha peg. Then I carefully paced off five to the east and two to the south. It brought me to the very threshold of the old door. Two steps to the westmeant now that I was to go two paces down the stone-flagged passage,and this was the place indicated by the Ritual."Never have I felt such a cold chill of disappointment, Watson. For amoment it seemed to me that there must be some radical mistake in mycalculations. The setting sun shone full upon the passage floor, and Icould see that the old, foot-worn gray stones with which it was pavedwere firmly cemented together, and had certainly not been moved formany a long year. Brunton had not been at work here. I tapped upon thefloor, but it sounded the same all over, and there was no sign of any crackor crevice. But, fortunately, Musgrave, who had begun to appreciate themeaning of my proceedings, and who was now as excited as myself, tookout his manuscript to check my calculations." 'And under,' he cried. 'You have omitted the "and under."'"I had thought that it meant that we were to dig, but now, of course, Isaw at once that I was wrong. 'There is a cellar under this then?' I cried.[395] " 'Yes, and as old as the house. Down here, through this door.'"We went down a winding stone stair, and my companion, striking amatch, lit a large lantern which stood on a barrel in the corner. In aninstant it was obvious that we had at last come upon the true place, andthat we had not been the only people to visit the spot recently."It had been used for the storage of wood, but the billets, which hadevidently been littered over the floor, were now piled at the sides, so as toleave a clear space in the middle. In this space lay a large and heavyflagstone with a rusted iron ring in the centre to which a thick shepherd's-check muffler was attached." 'By Jove!' cried my client. 'That's Brunton's muffler. I have seen iton him and could swear to it. What has the villain been doing here?'"At my suggestion a couple of the county police were summoned to bepresent, and I then endeavoured to raise the stone by pulling on the cravat.I could only move it slightly, and it was with the aid of one of theconstables that I succeeded at last in carrying it to one side. A black holeyawned beneath into which we all peered, while Musgrave, kneeling atthe side, pushed down the lantern."A small chamber about seven feet deep and four feet square lay opento us. At one side of this was a squat, brass-bound wooden box, the lid ofwhich was hinged upward, with this curious old-fashioned key projectingfrom the lock. It was furred outside by a thick layer of dust, and damp andworms had eaten through the wood, so that a crop of livid fungi wasgrowing on the inside of it. Several discs of metal, old coins apparently,such as I hold here, were scattered over the bottom of the box, but itcontained nothing else."At the moment, however, we had no thought for the old chest, for oureyes were riveted upon that which crouched beside it. It was the figure ofa man, clad in a suit of black, who squatted down upon his hams with hisforehead sunk upon the edge of the box and his two arms thrown out oneach side of it. The attitude had drawn all the stagnant blood to the face,and no man could have recognized that distorted liver-coloured countenance; but his height, his dress, and his hair were all sufficient toshow my client, when we had drawn the body up, that it was indeed hismissing butler. He had been dead some days, but there was no wound orbruise upon his person to show how he had met his dreadful end. Whenhis body had been carried from the cellar we found ourselves stillconfronted with a problem which was almost as formidable as that withwhich we had started."I confess that so far, Watson, I had been disappointed in myinvestigation. I had reckoned upon solving the matter when once I hadfound the place referred to in the Ritual; but now I was there, and wasapparently as far as ever from knowing what it was which the family hadconcealed with such elaborate precautions. It is true that I had thrown alight upon the fate of Brunton, but now I had to ascertain how that fatehad come upon him, and what part had been played in the matter by thewoman who had disappeared. I sat down upon a keg in the corner andthought the whole matter carefully over."You know my methods in such cases, Watson. I put myself in theman's place, and, having first gauged his intelligence, I try to imaginehow I should myself have proceeded under the same circumstances. Inthis case the matter was simplified by Brunton's intelligence being quitefirst-rate, so that it was unnecessary to make any allowance for thepersonal equation, as the astronomers have dubbed it. He knew thatsomething valuable was concealed. He had spotted the place. He foundthat the stone which covered it was just too heavy for a man to moveunaided. What [396] would he do next? He could not get help fromoutside, even if he had someone whom he could trust, without theunbarring of doors and considerable risk of detection. It was better, if hecould, to have his helpmate inside the house. But whom could he ask?This girl had been devoted to him. A man always finds it hard to realizethat he may have finally lost a woman's love, however badly he may havetreated her. He would try by a few attentions to make his peace with thegirl Howells, and then would engage her as his accomplice. Together theywould come at night to the cellar, and their united force would suffice toraise the stone. So far I could follow their actions as if I had actually seenthem."But for two of them, and one a woman, it must have been heavy work,the raising of that stone. A burly Sussex policeman and I had found it nolight job. What would they do to assist them? Probably what I shouldhave done myself. I rose and examined carefully the different billets ofwood which were scattered round the floor. Almost at once I came uponwhat I expected. One piece, about three feet in length, had a very markedindentation at one end, while several were flattened at the sides as if theyhad been compressed by some considerable weight. Evidently, as theyhad dragged the stone up, they had thrust the chunks of wood into thechink until at last when the opening was large enough to crawl through,they would hold it open by a billet placed lengthwise, which might verywell become indented at the lower end, since the whole weight of thestone would press it down on to the edge of this other slab. So far I wasstill on safe ground. "And now how was I to proceed to reconstruct this midnight drama?Clearly, only one could fit into the hole, and that one was Brunton. Thegirl must have waited above. Brunton then unlocked the box, handed upthe contents presumably -since they were not to be found-and then-andthen what happened?"What smouldering fire of vengeance had suddenly sprung into flamein this passionate Celtic woman's soul when she saw the man who hadwronged her- wronged her, perhaps, far more than we suspected-in herpower? Was it a chance that the wood had slipped and that the stone hadshut Brunton into what had become his sepulchre? Had she only beenguilty of silence as to his fate? Or had some sudden blow from her handdashed the support away and sent the slab crashing down into its place?Be that as it might, I seemed to see that woman's figure still clutching ather treasure trove and flying wildly up the winding stair, with her earsringing perhaps with the muffled screams from behind her and with thedrumming of frenzied hands against the slab of stone which was chokingher faithless lover's life out."Here was the secret of her blanched face, her shaken nerves, her pealsof hysterical laughter on the next morning. But what had been in the box?What had she done with that? Of course, it must have been the old metaland pebbles which my client had dragged from the mere. She had thrownthem in there at the first opportunity to remove the last trace of her crime."For twenty minutes I had sat motionless, thinking the matter out.Musgrave still stood with a very pale face, swinging his lantern and peering down into the hole." 'These are coins of Charles the First,' said he, holding out the fewwhich had been in the box; 'you see we were right in fixing our date forthe Ritual.'" 'We may find something else of Charles the First,' I cried, as theprobable meaning of the first two questions of the Ritual broke suddenlyupon me. 'Let me see the contents of the bag which you fished from themere.'[397] "We ascended to his study, and he laid the debris before me. Icould understand his regarding it as of small importance when I looked atit, for the metal was almost black and the stones lustreless and dull. Irubbed one of them on my sleeve, however, and it glowed afterwards likea spark in the dark hollow of my hand. The metal work was in the form ofa double ring, but it had been bent and twisted out of its original shape." 'You must bear in mind,' said I, 'that the royal party made head inEngland even after the death of the king, and that when they at last fledthey probably left many of their most precious possessions buried behindthem, with the intention of returning for them in more peaceful times.'" 'My ancestor, Sir Ralph Musgrave, was a prominent cavalier and theright-hand man of Charles the Second in his wanderings,' said my friend." 'Ah, indeed!' I answered. 'Well now, I think that really should giveus the last link that we wanted. I must congratulate you on coming intothe possession, though in rather a tragic manner, of a relic which is ofgreat intrinsic value, but of even greater importance as a historicalcuriosity.'" 'What is it, then?' he gasped in astonishment." 'It is nothing less than the ancient crown of the kings of England.'" 'The crown!'" 'Precisely. Consider what the Ritual says. How does it run? "Whosewas it?" "His who is gone." That was after the execution of Charles.Then, "Who shall have it?" "He who will come." That was Charles theSecond, whose advent was already foreseen. There can, I think, be nodoubt that this battered and shapeless diadem once encircled the brows ofthe royal Stuarts.'" 'And how came it in the pond?'" 'Ah, that is a question that will take some time to answer.' And withthat I sketched out to him the whole long chain of surmise and of proofwhich I had constructed. The twilight had closed in and the moon wasshining brightly in the sky before my narrative was finished." 'And how was it then that Charles did not get his crown when hereturned?' asked Musgrave, pushing back the relic into its linen bag." 'Ah, there you lay your finger upon the one point which we shallprobably never be able to clear up. It is likely that the Musgrave who heldthe secret died in the interval, and by some oversight left this guide to hisdescendant without explaining the meaning of it. From that day to this ithas been handed down from father to son, until at last it came withinreach of a man who tore its secret out of it and lost his life in the venture.'"And that's the story of the Musgrave Ritual, Watson. They have thecrown down at Hurlstone-though they had some legal bother and a considerable sum to pay before they were allowed to retain it. I am surethat if you mentioned my name they would be happy to show it to you. Ofthe woman nothing was ever heard, and the probability is that she gotaway out of England and carried herself and the memory of her crime tosome land beyond the seas."